


Baking

by Neverever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baking, Contests, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: The Avengers hold a baking contest. What could go wrong (or right)?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Fanwork Like it's 2012 Fest





	Baking

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt in the Cap-Iron Man Fanwork Like It's 2012. The prompt was about a baking contest. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

In the end, It all came down to Steve’s Traditional Irish Soda Bread versus Tony’s Magnificent Baked Alaska. 

Twisting a dish towel back and forth in his hands, Steve locked eyes with Tony as they waited out the baking. Tony popped a blueberry into his mouth, looking for all the world like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. If they were in a Western, right then and there an eagle would cry out and a tumbleweed would roll through the flour- and sugar-covered communal kitchen.

Rhodey turned to Natasha. “You knew this was a bad idea, right?”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe.” She’d been eliminated in the first round when her pryaniki burned. She was still working who had sabotaged her. Clint was the main suspect at this point considering he’d been the last person to touch her timer.

“Right,” Rhodey replied. 

Tony had roped him in when the whole team had spontaneously decided to have a baking contest. Rhodey had gone pretty far in the competition. He’d made a big splash with his Grandma Rhodes pecan pie, earning top points for the sweet crunchy slices. Then he was washed out with a cheesecake that oozed out of the springform pan. He still had no idea how that happened. 

As with all things Avenger, the contest had started innocently enough. With a little too much downtime, too many bored and competitive superheroes, and Clint burning a batch of chocolate chip cookies, a baking competition had to happen.

“I could do better,” Tony said bluntly, as his nose wrinkled from the acrid smell of the burnt cookie.

“Fine, Mister Mechanical Genius, let’s see if you could do better,” Clint said. He fiddled with the oven as if that was the problem, instead of forgetting to set the timer.

“Bring it on, Robin Hood,” Tony replied.

“I shall judge,” Thor declared. “I have an immense experience of food from across the universe --”

“And you love to eat,” Clint finished.

After that, an intense baking competition in the style of the British Baking Show spontaneously broke out. 

Which meant that the team had to explain reality television to Steve. Then explain television. Then explain why people would essentially volunteer to be embarrassed on said televised reality competition.

Steve narrowed his eyes and said, “I. See.” as he clearly drew on some long-held secret pain from his past.

From there it was On. Fueled by an overly competitive Steve and Tony, neither of whom was ready to lose to the other. The rules were simple -- bake your best bread, cookie, brownie or whatever you like, Thor tastes all the entries and declares a winner and a loser until two Avengers were left standing.

No one was surprised by Tony’s complex meringue creations. His macarons were perfect shells with the perfect crust and a touch of chewiness. His pavlovas light and airy and a little slice of heaven on the plate. His tart lemon meringue pie beat out Bruce’s Boston creme pie and Hill’s caramel apple pie. 

The surprise was Steve, of course. He was a secret sneaky bread genius.

“No one uses lard any more, Capiscle,” Tony declared as Steve pulled out a block of lard from the baking supplies JARVIS had ordered for the weekend.

Steve shifted his flour, kneaded his dough in a expert rhythm, rolled out perfect thin layers, and watched his proofing loaves like a hawk. He handily beat out Clint in the second round with his tuscan peasant bread that left everyone wanting more.

Tony and Steve came out miles ahead of Hill in the semi-finals. Her simple chocolate cake couldn’t hold a candle to Tony’s spicy Italian meringue cookies and Steve’s divine monkey bread. 

Thor was munching away as the team cleaned up the kitchen and Tony and Steve sized each other up. Rhodey had an in-depth consultation with Tony about ice cream while Steve considered his flour options.

Bruce asked, “Are you ready?” He had joined Thor as judge after he lost in the second round. The team had vowed to never talk of the mousse disaster that had been his downfall.

Tony and Steve gave each other a side-long glance and replied, “Yes.”

“You’re going down, Cap,” Tony said cheerfully.

“We’ll see,” Steve replied crisply. “I can do this all day.”

They measured out ingredients, prepped pans, and tried to unnerve each other as only sworn baking enemies could.

“Not clear why Steve needs to bake without his shirt on. But that’s how we live now,” Natasha said.

Steve had made an excellent tactical move since Tony nearly knocked himself out on the refrigerator door as he watched Steve peeled his tight shirt off. Then Steve strategically stood where no one could possibly miss the flex of his biceps as he kneaded his dough. Tony had to start all over again when he poured out the contents of a bag of sugar into his batter.

Clint elbowed Natasha. “I don’t think that this about winning the baking contest.” 

Tony had just licked his spoon in a decidedly non-innocent manner and it took all of Steve’s super soldier reflexes to catch the bowl he dropped. 

“Hmmm,” Natasha replied. 

Bruce leaned towards them both and said, “We really should have come up with rules about distractions.”

Hill hissed, “Are you crazy?”

They watched as Steve made of show of wiping off flour from his bare shoulder. Tony gulped audibly.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Steve’s magnificent bread creation had but a few minutes to go. Nerve-wracking slow seconds ticked by as Steve hovered around his oven, carefully checking the bread. 

Tony made circular motions with the kitchen torch over his baked Alaska, artfully browning the meringue. He carefully set the dessert on a decorative plate and then sidled up to absorbed Steve.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony said.

“Hmmm,” Steve replied, deep in consideration about his soda bread.

“I’ve got something for you,” Tony persisted.

Steve turned to look at Tony. Who planted a big kiss on Steve. Steve responded by pulling Tony into his arms to keep the kiss going. And going. And going. Until the timer rang and Steve just about burned his bread.

“Tony,” Steve gasped, his arm still slung around Tony’s waist. 

The shocked team fled the kitchen as a chunk of hot soda bread was chucked at Tony’s head. Clint, the last person out, slammed the door shut and propped it shut. “Soooo, let’s order pizza.”

Terrifying angry noises came from the kitchen as the team merrily ate pizza, watched movies and settled bets about Steve and Tony. 

Eventually the noises stopped. “Do you think we should check on them?” Bruce asked worried.

“No one sounds dead, so we’re good,” Rhodey replied. He clinked his beer with Natasha’s. “Seriously, Tony can handle himself.”

“Now he’s handling Steve,” Clint added.


End file.
